The Divorced Heiress Is Entering a New Marriage

1 had a restless night, unable to find any sleep with so many revelations bouncing around in my head.

Logan did his best to help me, holding and kissing me, but before too long, he couldn’t keep his eyes open I watched him sleep, dozing only lightly here and there.

When the sun came up, it was almost a relief. I didn’t have to pretend anymore.

We shared an early breakfast with the Christopher’s, then loaded up the car for our trip. When we were ready to leave, Frank gave me a hug first, then Tammy

“You’ll always have a home here,” Tammy whispered into my ear.

I hugged her tighter after that.

Logan drove guided by the GPS, and after thirty minutes, we pulled down the main street of the small town of Farhaven. The main street was scenic, with family–owned store fronts, flower beds under windows, and wooden park benches every now and then.

People were milling about, shopping and heading to work. It seemed very peaceful here. The people looked happy.

The cemetery was on the other end of the town, passed the town hall and another large building that seemed to be a bank. The cemetery didn’t have its own parking so Logan found a spot on the street. We walked the rest of the way.

As Tammy had already located my birth mother’s grave, we were able to follow the paths and markers to the right section and row. The cemetery was pretty small, considering, so it didn’t take us more than five -minutes from when we entered until we spotted the correct headstone.

Here lies Angela Clives. Under listed the years of her birth and death. With quick calculation, I realized she was only 38. Too young. Far too young.

That was it. No other words. No other memories. Just a name and a set of dates to remember an entire

life lost.

Yet, the more I looked at the headstone and the area of the grave itself, the more I realized how well tended it was compared to the more forgotten graves to the left and right. Angela’s even had real flowers around it, and they were still blooming.

Someone had to be tending to this grave. But who?

“Excuse me,” said a voice from behind us. Logan and I turned to see a woman of around 40 slowly approaching us. She stayed far off, as if not wanting to intrude. “Forgive me, but I have to ask. Are you one of Angela’s little girls?”

I blinked, startled.

“What makes you say that?” Logan interjected, speaking for me as my voice was lost.

“It’s just… you look so much like her.” Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

“Like who?” Logan asked.

Chapter 031/

“Why. Like Angela.” The woman motioned toward the headstone. “Oh, forgive me again My name is Rosa, I was friends with your mother after she moved here to Farhaven, until her passing

I didn’t know whether to believe her or not. This woman – Rosa could have just as easily seen my face on the news. Mr. Hatfield Senior made sure my face and sour reputation were out there for the entire

world to see.

Yet… Maybe I was blinded by hope, but I wanted to believe Rosa was genuine. To look like my mother, to be connected to her in some way, filled me with a sense of relief. As if she hadn’t been totally lost before I could ever hope to know her.

Tlook like her?” I asked.

“Yes,” Rosa said. “Oh, here.” Rosa opened her phone and started scrolling. When she found what she was looking for, she turned her phone toward me. On the screen was a photo of Rosa and my mother, their arms hooked through one another’s. My mother was smiling so big, her mouth was open like she was laughing.

Her blonde hair. Her physique. Her nose and lips and eyes.